Page 4 of A First Sight

While Uncle Ben had come to the US at nineteen and became a citizen six years later, he was born and bred in Scotland, which meant his compliment carried more weight than the average American. We Scots took our whisky seriously.

“Thank you,” I said as I accepted a glass. I swirled the amber-colored liquid before taking a sip. Uncle Ben was right. “Really, it’s American?”

“Technically.” He settled on the couch with a sigh.

His dark auburn hair had little silver and his face only a few lines, making him look younger than his seventy years. I often forgot how old he was, especially since he was my father’s youngest brother, and Da still referred to him that way. The Mac Gilleain had good genes. Da barely looked seventy himself, and he would be eighty-seven this spring.

“Brody McCrae, son of Patrick McCrae, started Shannon’s.”

My eyebrows shot up. There was a name I knew.

“McCrae International Research Institute?”

“The very same,” he confirmed. “His eldest, Alec, has taken over MIRI, but it seems one of his other sons, Brody, has pursued a career in distilling quality liquor.”

“Do either of you know the McCraes?” Uncle Ben’s partner, Stellan Brockmire, said as he joined us. “Or is it one of those Scottish families everyone knows?”

“A bit of both,” I said. “My sister, Darlene, lived in Edinburgh with her first husband when she was in her early twenties. And according toher, they met Patrick McCrae and became great friends.”

“But you don’t believe that?” Stellan asked.

“Let’s just say Darlene tends to…embellish things,” I said dryly. “I love my sister, but anything she says needs to be taken with a grain of salt.”

Stellan grinned, dimples deepening on either side of his mouth. “I’ve met a few people like that. Knowing who to believe is the secret to my success.”

Uncle Ben laughed and put his arm around Stellan’s shoulders. “And here I thought it was because you were simply a phenomenal lawyer.”

“It helps.”

I smiled as the two of them teased and joked with each other. Uncle Ben didn’t come out until he was fifty, and even though he met Stellan not too long after that, it took them years to move from friendship to romance.

“So, any plans for the new year?” Uncle Ben’s words cut through the joy. “Resolutions? Perhaps ones that involve working less and getting out more? Meeting new people?”

I tried not to scowl. I knew exactly what Uncle Ben meant by ‘meeting new people.’

“There’s a wonderful young woman who just moved into the building,” he continued. “She’s lovely.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice tight. “But I’m not interested.”

He looked at Stellan and then back at me. “It’s been fifteen years.”

“Almost sixteen,” Stellan corrected. “In a few days, it’ll be sixteen years since the accident. Belle would want you to be happy,” Stellan said to me, his usually cheerful expression serious. “She’d want you to find love again.”

I shook my head and drained the rest of the whiskey. “That’s not in the cards for me.”

I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself or being pessimistic. It was simply the truth. I had fallen in love with Belle Brockmire almost from the moment I laid eyes on her, and though the grief had tempered with time, I simply didn’t have it in me to love anyone else like that again. I had friends and family who I loved dearly, and that was enough.

It had to be.

FOUR

MAGGIE

I shiveredas Dale and I made our way from our parking spot to David Geffen Hall where today’s rehearsal was taking place. We ended up having to walk several blocks in the sort of sleety, slushy weather that made me not want to get out of bed in the first place.

My fingers around the handle of my violin case felt frozen, and the ones on the handle of my umbrella weren’t much better. I wore gloves, but the wind was wicked. It didn’t help that Dale kept bumping against me, sending me half out into the rain while he tried to keep himself dry under my umbrella. He hadn’t bothered bringing his own.

When we entered the building, the rush of warm air felt like a blazing fire against my near-frozen skin. Dale made his way to the rehearsal space as I struggled to close the umbrella. I rolled my eyes and winced as I uncurled my stiff fingers and fumbled with the catch on the umbrella handle.

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